


Omega Brats & Alpha Bitches

by ABCDEFanfiction



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABCDEFanfiction/pseuds/ABCDEFanfiction
Summary: Morty is an Omega Brat that keeps getting assaulted by Alphas who won't keep their hands to themselves. Rick decides to intervene.





	1. Lost Kitten

Morty flips his hair over his shoulder. Through half-lidded eyes, he looks around the classroom before sighing heavily and putting his head down on his desk. Math class has somehow gotten even more thoroughly boring ever since he presented Omega at puberty. He’s hardly had to lift a finger in most of his classes, since unmated Alphas are usually eager to help the unmated Omegas’ grades, and they’re always eager to help Morty. He’s pretty sure it’s because few other Omega tease and flirt with the Alphas during study sessions.

Most of the Omegas in his high school are shy and unconfident, but Morty flourished into the role. Mated Alphas often assume Morty is an Alpha because of the way he presents himself; but unmated Alphas who can still smell pheromones immediately identify him as an Omega. Morty reeks of heat and sex, probably because he makes a point to masturbate every morning before he gets dressed so that he exudes Omega pheromones. Morty pretends not to notice all the ways this drives Alphas insane. They take every excuse to get close to him, touch him.

Morty must’ve fallen asleep, because the bell for the next period wakes him up. He leaves his head down, whining quietly in protest of the bright fluorescent lights above him. He smiles inwardly; when he whined, the scent of at least two Alphas in the room got much stronger. Morty feels a hand on the curve of his back, and fakes like he’s fallen back asleep. 

The Alpha rubs Morty’s back gently, cooing to him in a low and soothing voice. “Come on, baby boy. It’s time for fifth block.”

Morty can hear people leaving the classroom, brushing past his desk. He feigns grogginess, lifting his head from the table and cutely tucking some stray hair behind his ear. “Oh… Sorry, you know, um, I didn’t mean to hold you up, um…” Morty lies, blinking up at the Alpha.

“Joshua,” the thin and muscled Alpha finishes for him. “And don’t worry about it, Morty. My next class is English, I definitely don’t want to be there on time.”

Jessica’s manicured nails tap on Morty’s desk. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great, Jess,” Morty smiles up at her. He catches a glimpse of jealousy as she flashes a polite smile at Joshua. She squeezes Morty’s arm affectionately, and then leaves with some of her friends. 

Morty smiles shyly up at Joshua, who’s already hefting Morty’s book bag onto his free shoulder. Morty opens his mouth to feign an offer to carry his own bag, but Joshua shakes his head before Morty can speak. He stands and follows Joshua out of the room, into the bustling hallway. 

“Where’s your next class, baby boy?” Joshua asks. He’s taller than Morty and the smaller boy has trouble keeping up with him. Morty huffs dramatically and tugs on Joshua’s shirt to get his attention. Joshua grins and slows down a bit. 

“Um… Ugh. History,” Morty groans. Joshua looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Wanna ditch with me?” 

Morty rolls his eyes, laughing. “You’re, you know, you’re as bad as my grandpa.”

Joshua grumbles. “Hate that guy. Always coming in here trying to take you out of class. You’re a good kid, you don’t deserve that distraction.”

“Distraction from, um, school? Or from- from you?” Morty says. 

“Both,” Joshua says with a wink.

The one minute bell is ringing and the hallway is quickly emptying, and a few of Morty’s Omega friends notice Morty’s escort. They come over, their heels clicking on the linoleum. “Mortyyyyy! How are youuuuu?” one says, linking her arm under Morty’s to walk with him. 

“I am- I’m doing just fabulously, Lizzie, thank you for- thanks for asking,” Morty covers her hand on his arm, noticing how Joshua smiles and shakes his head at the posse hanging around them. 

“How are you girls?” Joshua asks. 

Lizzie laughs sarcastically and puts her free hand on her hip. “Girls? Ha! Excuse me, we aren’t five years old. That’s ladies to you.” She smiles hugely at Morty and squeezes his arm against her side, adding, “‘Cept for adorable Morty here. He’s a gentleman.” The Omegas giggle, snapping their fingers in agreement. The last bell rings and the hallway empties completely except for the meandering group.

Joshua laughs, correcting himself. “Alright, alright. How are you ladies?”

“We are doing just fabulously, aren’t we, Morty?” says Asia as she sidles up beside Joshua, taking his arm the way Lizzie had taken Morty’s. 

“Yes, yeah, we def- uh, definitely are… Ladies, it was so lovely seeing you, but I really gotta- I really need to get to class, this is my next period.” 

“Aww, boo.” Lizzie pouts for a second, then kisses Morty’s cheek and lets go of his arm. 

“Text us,” says Chris, pinching Morty’s arm teasingly. “If you leave us on read one more time, we’re disowning you!”

The group starts wandering back they way they had come. “She’s kidding, babe, you know we’d never! Muah!” Maha yells over her shoulder at Morty. 

Morty blushes and stares up at Joshua. “Um…”

Joshua looks down the hallway after the Omegas. “Wow. They are quite the group, huh?” Morty nods, tugging at his book bag strap. Joshua shrugs it off his shoulder and hands it to Morty. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Huh?” Morty picks at his cuticle anxiously, glancing around Joshua at the door to the classroom. His next class has already started. One more tardy and he’ll get detention. 

“I’ll walk you to class again tomorrow,” Joshua explains, stepping closer to Morty. His body is larger than Morty’s, making the smaller boy feel caged between the lockers and the Alpha in rut. Quietly, he adds, “I don’t want a cute little thing like yourself getting brainwashed by those Omega whores, alright? There’s a reason they’re still unmated.”

Morty glares up at Joshua, his mouth open in disbelief. “Are- are you fucking kidding me?” Morty scoffs. “‘Those Omegas’ are- they’re my friends! They’re unmated because they don’t put up with this kinda- put up with shit from people like you! St-step back, Alpha bitch!”

Morty turns on his heel and darts into his history class. His stomach churns as he sits down in the back, ignoring Mrs. Held’s heavy stare at her tardy student. He tries to ignore the rising panic in his chest, too. King Jellybean had made a lasting impression on the kid. Anytime Alphas get too pushy, Morty’s heart starts pounding, his hands get slick. 

Throughout class, he doodles on his late homework. His stomach never settles enough to focus. As soon as the bell rings, he practically sprints out of the classroom. He leaves the building through one of the back doors, his heart only starting to calm as he neared the little nook where he and his friends usually hang out.

A long time ago, the school had started to expand. Their budget ran dry very suddenly when the town had started worshipping potatoes, so all the renovations in progress had been put on permanent hold. The ‘nook’ where the Omegas hang out is one of those projects, a new office for the principal. It doesn’t have a roof, and the floor sags from water damage, but anyone inside it is invisible from every direction except above. The classroom on the other side of the shared wall isn’t in use anymore, so they don’t even have to be quiet. The school administration thinks it’s inaccessible, anyway. 

Morty shoves his book bag in through the hole in the crumbling brick wall, then wriggles in after it. The foundation is about a foot and a half above the ground, so it takes some maneuvering, but he and his friends have it down to a science by now. They can slip through agilely in seconds, without dirtying their outfits or letting their hair touch the floor. Morty settles himself into the corner, sitting Indian style on one of the rugs the Omegas had tried to spruce up the place with. He pulls out his phone, using the front camera to check his hair and refresh his lipstick. He plays a phone game absently for a few minutes, and just as he he starts getting antsy, Maha’s backpack slides in through the entrance. Her tiny, short body is quick to follow. 

Asia slips in after her, then Chris, then Lizzie. Lizzie is always the last one in and the first one out because her tall, broad frame hides the rest of the Omegas as they crawl in and out. She’s also got the strongest eyes, so she makes a good watchman. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” Asia says as she sits down across from Morty. Her eyes widen as she inhales, and she leans in closer to sniff the blond. Her voice takes on worry. “Morty! What’s wrong?! You reek of fear.”

Morty swallows thickly and shakes his head, all eyes on him as the rest of the Omegas sit. “Nothing. I s-saw a wasp.”

“Bullshit,” Chris jabs a finger at Morty’s chest. “It was that guy, wasn’t it? The fuck did that Alpha bitch do to you, Morty?”

“Nothing!” Morty insists. He can feel the quartet stare at him through their eyelashes, but he doesn’t look up from his lap. After a moment of indignant silence, Asia tuts disappointedly.

“You’d think by now he’d trust us,” Asia mutters under her breath.

“Morty, don’t listen to her. We know you trust us,” Lizzie says, pulling red nail polish from her bag and gesturing for Morty’s left hand. “Gurl, you gotta take better care of your cuticles. This is a disaster,” she shakes her head disapprovingly and replaces the nail polish with cuticle oil, brushing it onto his nail beds and rubbing it in. 

Morty sighs with happiness, some of his tension seeping away with the massage. “I’ve been trying, but I pick at them.” 

Chris takes Morty’s other hand. She holds it up to examine his fingernails before starting to file them. “Don’t try to brush this off, Liz. Those Alphas are assertive with Morty. They go so crazy over him. It’s disgusting.”

“Chris, you ate someone out for a candy bar. You don’t get to talk about disgusting,” Maha says, tapping Asia’s leg and holding out her hairbrush. As the only Omega in the clique with straight hair, she has an easy time finding a candidate to brush or play with her hair.

The Omegas giggle. Chris smirks, “Pussy goes well with Snickers, what can I say?” Laughter fills the small room. She adds, “Seriously, though. Sexual assault is what’s really disgusting.” 

Her statement casts a heaviness over the group. Lizzie looks at Morty through her lashes, only opening her mouth to quietly ask Chris to switch hands with her, so she can oil Morty’s right hand. As Morty crosses his hands over his lap, he sighs. “It’s really not- it’s not that bad, girls.”

“Really? So I didn’t see that Alpha bitch Jessica smack your ass twice, once after you told her not to?” Asia raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at Morty, running her fingers through Maha’s hair at the same time. 

“I- yeah, okay, but-” Morty starts. 

Chris quickly cuts him off. “Nuh uh! Alphas don’t need Omega excuses.”

“I’m just wondering why they go after Morty so much. I mean, yeah, they go after all of us, but Morty’s like crack to them. Us girls could take a lesson,” Maha comments, her eyes closed as she purrs contentedly from the hairplaying. Morty chuckles, and all eyes snap to look at him. “Morty, you sly gurl, you know why they swarm all over you?”

Morty grins. “I jerk off b-before school every day. Unmated Alphas smell me from a mile away.”

The girls gasp. “That’s so genius! How did you find out that would work?” Lizzie says.

Morty shrugs. “I r-read it in a magazine. During that first, uh, my first heat I basically just cooped up in m-my room for a long- for a- a couple weeks, reading lots of- reading stuff about Omegas. My family is mostly- mostly Alphas, except for my dumbass d-dad, so I didn’t have great- you know, great resources back then.”

“Oh my gosh, I feel you,” Asia responds. “Since I was so confident from a young age, everyone thought I would present Alpha. When I presented Omega I was, like, scrambling to figure out what the hell to do during my first heat.”

The clique sighs happily, remembering back to their first heats. You don’t go into heat again until you mate for the first time, then you start to get them regularly every few months. Alphas go into ruts regularly, even before they mate. Sometimes, unmated Omegas can go into heat if there’s an Alpha in rut nearby, but it’s rare. The pair have to love each other for it to happen, and if they love each other, they’ve usually already mated. 

The group hangs around gossiping until the sun starts to set, and then they each head home in different directions. Only a few minutes pass before Morty’s phone starts blowing up with the Omegas’ group chat, which has been appropriately named Omega Brats. Morty watches the chat for a few minutes as Asia and Lizzie argue over the cutest Alphas in the school, but eventually he gets tired of holding his phone with cuticle oil on his fingertips and pockets it again. 

As he nears his house, he starts to pick at his nails again before realizing what he’s doing. He switches to massaging the oil into his cuticles more. A magazine he read recently said that fingernails grow faster if you massage the beds. His nails are short, and although Chris had filed them into pretty little crescent moons, they still aren’t pretty enough for Morty’s taste. In all the porn he watches, the Omegas have beautiful, painted nails that leave brilliant red scratches. 

Morty starts to head up the steps to the front door, and then turns, deciding to go in through the garage to say hello to Rick. His legs hurt from sitting so long and his cheeks are sore from smiling and laughing with the Omegas. He’s so thankful for the pain, though. It hurts less than getting pushed down stairs, getting swirlies, getting laughed at. 

“Mooughrtyyyy!” Rick says excitedly as Morty steps into the garage. “Damn, you smell like a bunch of horny- like a bunch of horny, angry Omegas. The fuuuuuck happened?”

“Nothing, Rick,” Morty sighs and heads for the door into the house. Rick is drunk like always. Why did he even bother checking on the old man? He smells like vodka and rut. Morty can usually handle one of those scents at a time, but both is just overpowering. 

Rick grabs his wrist, tugging him back and pulling up a chair for Morty. “N- c’mon, Morty, you know, you can, y’know, you can talk to me,” Rick insists. Morty yanks his arm out of Rick’s grasp.

“No, I c-can’t, Rick, when I told you- the last time I told you about my lovelife, y-you cronenburged the entire world,” Morty mumbles, going inside. 

He pulls off his shoes and runs his fingers through his hair. The hairspray had started to melt against the back of his neck as he walked. He wants a shower. It feels like he can’t ever get clean anymore. 

He rummages in the fridge for a minute, looking for a snack. As he’s rinsing off a pear, Summer wanders in and sits on a barstool, playing on her phone. “Hey, what’s up? You’re home late. Another heated makeout session with an Alpha whose name you don’t remember?” she winks at Morty.

“No, nah, just hung out with the g-girls,” Morty confesses. He slices up the pear and starts to munch on it, examining his nails. “Do you, uh, do you know where I could get some- where I could get cuticle oil?” Summer looks up from texting, her brow furrowed for a moment before she smiles. 

“Oh, yeah, I got some in the bathroom upstairs that I hardly use anymore. It’s yours, bro. Middle drawer, left side.” 

Morty thanks her, finishes his snack, and heads upstairs to shower. He finds the oil where Summer said it would be, and tucks it into his own drawer; he tries to ignore how cold the knobs on the bathroom cupboards feel under his fingers. He sighs and strips in front of the mirror. His ribs show through his skin, but not too badly. His hair clings to his shoulder blades and neck uncomfortably. Morty doesn’t have to use a thermometer to know that his temperature is above normal. It’s the first symptom of a heat.

He grabs a washcloth, turns the shower as hot as he can stand, and steps in.

He washes his hair first. The sticky residue rinses off easily and he’s grateful for it. His fingers feel weird under the water because of the oil.

He didn’t always care how he looked. He only started to when he presented Omega, because the Alphas were even sweeter to him on days when he looked pretty. He fell very quickly into wearing short shorts and high heels, shaving his legs, growing out his hair, and doing his nails. The Brats sort of adopted him and helped him, loaning him cute things and doing his makeup for him until he got the hang of the style. His family still isn’t used to it, although they don’t mind by any means. It still just catches them off guard occasionally. Rick, though…

Rick had hardly noticed, except for one time. For a party, Morty got dressed up, heels, full makeup, done-up hair - the works. Just as he was getting ready to leave the house, Rick swooped in and insisted on going to Blips & Chitz for the evening, drunkenly threatening to tell Beth if Morty was going to leave the house while Rick was in charge. Morty begrudgingly went with him, but after a few hours (and several sweet treats, which Morty insisted Rick buy for him) Morty started loosening up. He nearly beat Rick’s score on Roy, and as he was taking the helmet off, Rick high fived him, saying, “Cooooeurghngrats, Morty! That’s still your name, i-isn’t it?”

Morty was confused, and just nodded. Rick muttered something with his lips on a beer, and Morty could swear he heard the older man say something about the name Morticia. Morty had blushed, but hadn’t responded. 

Ever since, he’s been finding interesting clothes mixed in among the bags his friends give him as hand-me-downs, updating his closet and theirs in the same shopping trip. He notices the slightly too shimmery shoes and the cute, oversized t-shirts with planets he doesn’t recognize, the accessories made from materials that feel, well, alien under his fingers. He wears them around Rick whenever he can, trying to eke out recognition from the scientist. Rick never reacts, though. Never even so much as looks at the boy’s outfits. 

It drives Morty slightly mad. He puts in so much effort for all these dumbass Alphas at school, who fawn all over him in response. But he puts ten times at much energy into prettying himself up when he goes out with Rick, and the old man is blind to it. 

Morty sighs and starts to wash his face with the washcloth. He grumbles as he realizes he forgot to remove his false eyelashes, and starts gently tugging on them. With the hot water on his face, he can pull them off without much pain. He puts them on the side of the tub and keeps washing. 

He wonders vaguely if Summer has mated. She’s either a few weeks late for her rut or she’s mated, in which case Morty wouldn’t be able to smell her anymore. He can only tell when his mom and dad are in rut and heat because it’s the only time they can stand to be around each other. Morty loves those few weeks. 

Rick’s ruts are more unpredictable. His age and alcoholism affect the stability of his cycle, sometimes enough that he skips it entirely. He usually goes off for a couple weeks during his ruts, avoiding Morty and Earth in general. Morty assumes he spends it with alien prostitutes. 

It’s been nearly six months since Morty caught the scent of Rick’s rut. He expects the old man to be forty dimensions away by tomorrow morning.

Morty only realizes he’s hard when he starts to wash his thighs. He gasps and bites his lip, groping himself through the washcloth. He bucks his hips into his own hand at the sensation, thumbing at his tip. He’s not exactly in the mood, but he knows jerking off will help break a heat.

He recognizes the slippery feel of slick as it drips down the inside of his thighs. Carefully, he bites back a moan and he maneuvers two fingers into his ass, working his cock in a steadily quickening rhythm. The roughness of the cloth feels heavenly, it reminds Morty of… 

Of Rick’s hands. 

Morty suddenly feels sick. He pulls his fingers out of himself and lethargically starts washing his legs. The slick dripping out of him is water resistant and doesn’t want to come off of his skin, but it disgusts him too much to be patient. He turns the water even hotter and scrubs at his skin, scrubs so hard and with such a distracted mind that his skin turns red quickly under his brutalizing touch. When all the evidence has gone down the drain and his cock is growing limp again, Morty turns off the shower and steps out. He uses the softest, fluffiest towel on the rack to dry off with. 

He shuffles into his room, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper and pulling on an oversized Blips & Chitz t-shirt before curling up into bed. He tries to rationalize his emotions in every way he knows, but the rest of his brain refuses to entertain the thoughts.

I just caught the scent of Rick’s rut. That’s all.

Omegas aren’t supposed to go into heat from family’s ruts. 

I caught the scent of Joshua’s rut, then.

Morty laughs cynically into his pillow at that one. He’s nowhere close to loving Joshua.

Joshua made me scared earlier. Rick is like… my safe place.

Since when has Rick ever made Morty feel safe? Morty’s nearly killed by one of his grandpa’s adventures about every other week.

I’m misinterpreting my thankfulness for his gifts, thinking that I’m actually feeling attraction.

Morty felt this way before Rick gave him so much as a tic tac in exchange for all the misadventures.

Morty pulled the blankets up over his head, scrunching his eyes closed. His wet hair is slowly soaking the back of his shirt and it’s making him uncomfortable, but he refuses to move. He feels hot. He feels like dying. He refuses to push the blankets back, though. He knows that if an Omega’s body starts actually overheating, it’ll break their heat like a fever. 

He wishes so much that he didn’t know that from experience. He wishes this wasn’t the first time he’s had to bathe in scalding water and wrap himself in several layers of clothing and blankets, all in the name of protecting his secret.

He’s so sick of throwing himself at people who don’t care about anything except getting off, he’s so sick of hearing Alphas talk so much shit about the confident Omega Brats behind their backs. Tears well up in his eyes as he thinks of what Joshua must be saying about him right now, just because Morty had stuck up for himself and his friends. 

He wakes up from a nightmare around three in the morning, when his phone buzzes. He ignores it, rolling over in bed. His blood still feels like lava in his veins. He curls into himself tighter, preserving every wave of heat that halfway suffocates him.

It buzzes again. Morty groans, covering his ears with his pillow. It buzzes again. Morty growls sleepily at it. It buzzes a fourth time and Morty grabs it, fully intending to chuck it against the far wall, but the messages catch his eye. The Omega Brats never stay up so late, but there they are in the group chat, freaking out with full force.

Lizzie: AAAAAAAAAA THIS IS INSANE  
Asia: IKR??????  
Chris: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU GUYS WAKE ME UP AT THREE IN THE MORNING  
Morty: I would also like to know that  
Maha: They’re excited bc they got the Brats invites to some party this weekend  
Asia: WE GOT INVITES TO ONE OF AIDEN FUCKIN MARLAND’S HOUSEPARTIES  
Maha: ^^^^^^  
Chris: omfg i hate you guys, i’m going back to bed and turning off my notes. gratz morty  
Lizzie: CHRIS YOU SHOULD BE EXCITED  
Asia: Liz  
Asia: Liz she’s gone  
Lizzie: nooOOOOO  
Asia: Focus pls  
Maha: I got so many questions  
Morty: Yeah like what do I wear and can I go back to sleep  
Maha: No like WHY DO WE CARE  
Maha: We get party invites all the time?????  
Asia: YEAH BUT MAHA  
Lizzie: THIS IS MORTY’S FIRST HOUSEPARTY WITH US  
Maha: OMG IT IS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LEGIT JUST JUMPED OUTTA BED  
Morty: Maha how did you forget that ??  
Lizzie: Idk Morty maybe you’re just so fab that she can’t really remember life without you  
Morty: Wow Liz ar eyou drunk?  
Lizzie: Lmao no but you migt be with that typo  
Lizzie: FUCK MAYBE I AM DRUNK NOW I’M MAKING TYPOS TOO  
Morty: Omfg  
Asia: Okay stop being drunk bc we gotta coordinate, whose house we gonna meet at to get ready after school  
Lizzie: Mine, my parents work late  
Maha: OOH YES I LOVE YOUR HOUSE IT’S SO FANCY  
Maha: Also sorry was afk bc ngl I was picking outfits for me n Mort  
Lizzie: You got him covered Maha??  
Maha: Yeah I got it all picked out already  
Morty: Thanks Maha  
Maha: np boo, us short & skinny brats gotta stick together  
Lizzie: :(((((((  
Asia: DDDDDDDDD:  
Maha: I MEANT WITH SHARING CLOTHES  
Maha: we still sticking with the fat & tall Brats too <3 :*  
Asia: Gurl you know it  
Lizzie: That’s better <333333  
Morty: …Can I go back to sleep now???  
Lizzie: Yeah get your beauty rest before tomorrow!!  
Asia: gn you fab Brats <3  
Maha: Love you all!! See you at lunch tomorrow  
Morty: Goodnight 

Morty plugs his phone in and put it under his pillow. He stares up at the ceiling, thinking of makeup and shoes and Alphas grinding on him and Omegas gossiping with him. It isn’t his first houseparty if you count the one Summer and Rick threw a while ago, but the Omega Brats treat it as a serious rite of passage to go to a houseparty with them for the first time.

He falls asleep in a better mood than a few hours ago.

~~~

Morty wears his hair in a messy bun the next day, knowing the Brats will want to redo it after school. He adds one of the accessories Rick has given him; a hairclip that feels too smooth and changes color under different lighting. Morty shrugs on a pink cami and a pair of sweatshorts with, you guessed it, the word ‘juicy’ written in all caps across his ass. He wears light makeup and packs his eyeliner, mascara, and lipsticks in his book bag. He checks his temperature with a thermometer to make sure he isn’t still in heat.

When he’s put together, he goes downstairs to grab something to eat on the way to school. Summer is sitting at the breakfast table, picking at a piece of toast and staring at her phone. She hardly notices when Morty walks in.

“Hey,” she says flatly, without looking up from her phone. “You look good today.”

Morty pours himself a glass of orange juice. He leaves enough for Rick, if the old man is even still around. “Y-you okay, Summer?”

Summer rolls her eyes and throws her half-eaten toast back onto her plate. “Leave me alone, Morty,” she growls, her nails clicking against her phone screen as she angrily types something. Morty’s shoulders sag slightly. Summer’s usually the only other rational person in this house. 

Morty leaves through the garage, and isn’t surprised to find Rick gone. 

~~~

Lunch is lasagna. While the Brats eat, they discuss at length their outfits, makeup, and hair for the party tonight. You’d think they were talking about some illegitimate prom, and Morty loves every second of it. Summer ruined his morning but the Brats are always quick to bring him back from the grumpy brink. 

“What’s with you today, Chris?” Asia nudges the taller girl’s foot under the table. “You’re on your phone so much today.”

“Do you- are you cheating o-on us?” Morty says lightheartedly.

Chris shrugs and takes another bite of lunch. “My brother stayed home from school today. I’m a little worried about him.” 

Maha leans against Chris’ side. “Aww, do you want to talk about it?”

Chris shakes her head. “Not here. At Lizzie’s. This can’t be getting out.”

The Brats nod. “We got your back, no matter what, Chris,” Lizzie says, slinging her arm over Chris’ shoulders. 

All throughout classes, Morty wonders incessantly over what the news might be. Chris’ Omega brother, Sam, is a freshman in college. Morty hears about Omegas getting raped on campus all the time, and he’s praying that’s not what happened to Sam. From the few times Morty had met him in person, Sam seemed like a really sweet guy. He was popular as hell in high school last year. 

At the end of math, Morty spots Joshua starting to come over to Morty’s desk. Morty gets up and disappears into the crowd, finding himself in his next class before the warning bell even rings. Halfway through class, his phone vibrates against his thigh. It’s Lizzie, offering to give the Brats a ride to her place. The group agrees. After class, Morty practically runs out of the building again today, but this time it’s excitement and not fear that’s making him do it. 

He easily finds Lizzie’s car in the parking lot. The pink Range Rover doesn’t exactly blend in. After a few minutes, Lizzie shows up and unlocks the car. Morty scoots in behind the driver’s seat, his heart fluttering and his knee bouncing. He’s almost embarrassed to admit how excited he is.

“AC on or top down, boo?” Lizzie asks, looking at Morty in the rearview mirror. 

“You never let- let me pick that!” Morty laughs. 

Lizzie shrugs, smiling. “It’s a special day for you.”

“Top down, pretty p-please,” Morty says. Lizzie hits a button on the dash and the roof of the car lifts up and folds back. Morty turns his face up to the sun and smiles. Lizzie puts on some pop music, and waves to cute Alphas as they climb into their cars.

Eventually, the rest of the Brats show up. Asia takes the passenger seat and Chris sits between Morty and Maha in the back. 

“Aren’t you hyped, Morty?” Chris asks, wiggling in her seat excitedly. Before Morty can answer, she continues, “I’m so hyped for you, boo! I’m so sorry I bailed on the chat last night, I really was excited. It was just, last night is when I heard about what’s been going on with my brother.”

“Hey, that- that’s okay, Chris, don’t worry about it,” Morty says. “Are you d-doing okay?”

“I don’t know. I’ll be fine, I guess. If I don’t die first,” Chris says, glaring daggers at Lizzie as she runs a red light. Morty nearly laughs; he can’t remember the last time he was scared in a vehicle that only moved in two dimensions. 

“Omegas! Listen!” Lizzie says, turning the volume way up on the radio. A Twenty One Pilots song blares, and the girls squeal and start to sing along. Morty laughs and checks his phone since he doesn’t know the lyrics. 

His Snapchat notifications are overflowing, but no one interesting. Aiden has sent him over twenty snaps just since math class yesterday. Morty opened one of them, unsurprised to find a dick pic.

“Oh my gosh, gurl, what are you doing?!” Chris says in a scandalized voice, looking down at Morty’s phone. “Who is that?”

“It’s that Alpha b-bitch from yesterday,” Morty laughs, showing the photo to Maha and Asia at their insistence. “I bet he thinks he’s s-so fucking original with this- you know, with this shit.”

Lizzie looks at them in the rearview mirror, her eyebrows raised. Asia explains, “That Alpha bitch Aiden sent Morty a dick pic!”

Morty laughs harder, opening another photo. “Umm… It kinda looks like he s-sent me a whole lot m-more than one…” He checks about six of the photos, all of which prove to be dick pics from different angles and with different rooms in the background. “Oh my- oh my gosh, that- does that look like the school b-bathroom to you guys?!” 

Morty shows it around, and all the Brats explode into giggles and shrieks, agreeing that it, indeed, looks like the public school bathroom. “Sooooo hot,” Maha says. “I wonder why on Earth he’s unmated.”

They pull into Lizzie’s driveway mostly unscathed (except for Morty’s eyeballs) and scurry inside the McMansion. Lizzie ushers the Brats upstairs and into her large bedroom with an attached bathroom. Asia flops down on the bed, Chris claims the seat in front of the vanity and starts to remove her makeup with wipes, and Lizzie heads into the bathroom to take a piss. Maha finds her outfit in her bag and starts to change clothes.

“Maha, can I, um, can I s-see what you brought for me?” Morty asks. 

Maha waves her hand at her bag. “It’s in there, boo, it’s the blue speckled thing and the shorts with it. I packed some accessory options, too; take your pick,” she says, shimmying into a tight black miniskirt. She adjusts until she’s comfortable and then sits down in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror to start doing her hair.

Morty roots through Maha’s bag, finding the outfit under her makeup container and a can of mace. It’s a light blue crop top with abstract shapes printed on it, and brilliantly white short shorts. Morty picks some silver earrings and a set of red bangles that match one of the colors on the top. He gathers everything up into his arms and goes to stand near the bathroom door. 

Asia notices, looking up at him from her phone. “Whatcha doing, Morty?” she asks.

“Waiting f-for Lizzie to come out so I can get- so I can change,” Morty says. Maha turns her head to look at him.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right, boo?” Maha says gently. “We don’t care.”

Morty chuckles nervously, tucking a loose hair behind his ear. “But, uh…”

“Morty. We don’t care. Promise,” Chris says, starting to apply foundation. “The rest of us do it all the time.”

“Trust me, Morty, you aren’t gonna show us more than Aiden did,” Asia giggles. Maha snorts.

“Alright…” Morty concedes quietly. His chest feels warm and he can’t keep himself from smiling as he steps away from the bathroom door, letting his hair down and setting the stack of clothes on the edge of the vanity. Chris hardly notices, too consumed by a conversation with Asia over how much alcohol you can drink before it starts to make your skin dry.

Morty faces the wall and pulls off his shirt, his face pink and his smile still huge. He replaces it quickly with the crop top. Maha’s chest is pretty small, so it doesn’t shock him that her top fits him well, but he’s still grateful for the fact that he’s never had to stuff. 

He pulls off his shoes and wriggles out of his sweats just as Lizzie walks out of the bathroom. His heart skips a beat, bracing for her to yell at him to put his clothes back on. When she joins in the heated convo about booze without so much as a surprised half-gasp, Morty lets out a relieved breath. He tugs on the shorts, going over to stand behind Maha to put in the earrings. 

“Morty, oh my gosh, you look amazing!” Maha mumbles around bobby pins held between her lips.

The Brats look up from their varying tasks. “Definitely Brats-worthy,” Asia approves. 

“Eeeeee! Morty, you look so… Ugh, what’s the word? ‘Fuckable’ comes to mind, but I don’t think that’s right,” Lizzie says.

“Cute?” Chris offers. Lizzie snaps her fingers and points at Chris enthusiastically.

“Yes! That!”

Morty flips his hair and turns to one side to check out his ass in the mirror. “I do look p-pretty cute, don’t I? And f-fuckable. Both are- both work, I think,” he says, grinning bigger and more confidently than he has in months. The Brats squeal and snap their fingers in agreement. “Thank you so m-much, Maha, I, you know, I’m really grateful.”

“Absofruitly, Morty, anytime. I’m just honored you’re wearing a Maha Luione outfit to your first houseparty as a Brat.”

“Morty, get the fuck over here,” Lizzie says, patting the bed. Morty giggles and stops checking himself out, throwing himself onto the bed. Asia and Lizzie practically pounce on him. Asia grabs her comb and starts on Morty’s hair, and Lizzie starts painting Morty’s nails. Morty watches as the dark red polish is brushed onto his fingernails, and his breath hitches gently at the image of blood on his hands. No, not image. Memory. The memory of dark, congealing blood on his hands. The memories of it being his, the many memories of it being Rick’s. The memory of adrenaline and t-

“Turn your head, boo, I’m gonna do a braid on the side of your head,” Asia commands. Morty forces a smile, glad to oblige.

“Don’t give him cornrows!” Maha says.

Asia sticks her tongue out at the smaller girl. “Gurl, that’s racist against my people.”

“How could I be racist? I’m brown,” Maha says skeptically.

“Yeah, but you’re still not my color! You’re like, caramel,” Asia says. 

“Okay, that was definitely racist,” Maha laughs. “I ain’t food!”

“Mm, I’d eat you,” Chris says. Maha flips her off with a free hand.

“You would eat anyone,” Asia says. Chris makes a noise of agreement, and the room giggles.

Morty closes his eyes, enjoying Asia’s skilled fingers in his hair. He doesn’t have the waist-length hair that Maha sports, but his hair is past the bottoms of his shoulder blades. He hasn’t cut it since presenting Omega over a year ago, and he’s glad he hasn’t. The hair flips he’s mastered wouldn’t’ve been possible with his short hair from before.

Asia styles Morty’s hair in large, loose curls with little braids peppered throughout it. By the time it was ready to be hairsprayed, Lizzie had finished on Morty’s nails and called Chris over to do Morty’s makeup. When the Brats are all finished, they usher him over to the mirror to show him their work, all excitedly chittering.

Morty’s sure that he’s never looked so fabulous in his entire life. He opens his mouth to thank them all, but his eyes start brimming with tears and Chris kicks him in the shin before he can say anything. 

“Don’t you dare smudge my masterpiece, boo,” Chris says. “I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“She’s joking,” Maha says, tugging one of Chris’ curls. Lizzie kisses Morty’s perfectly contoured cheek, and the girls disperse to tend to each other. Morty keeps staring at his reflection in awe. He never would’ve guessed that he could look so…

Well, fuckable.

The crop top shows off Morty’s ribs and flat stomach. The shorts show off his skinny thighs. His hair has a vague aspect of postcoital messiness that suggest his perfect nails had just left scratches on someone’s back. Lizzie had let Morty use her lipstick because Morty hadn’t brought one in a light enough shade of blue, to match his top and bring out his eyes.

He helps with the Brats’ hair as much as he can, but his hands are too shaky to paint nails or do makeup. While he’s doing Chris’ hair, she starts to explain what she’d been worried about all day.

“I mean, really, my brother has never acted the way he’s been acting lately. About six weeks ago, he texts me saying all this shit, like, ‘I just met the prettiest Alpha I’ve ever seen’ and ‘she asked me out to dinner, I can’t wait to see her again’ and blah blah blah. Anyway, then, like, two weeks later, he texts me saying he’s gone into goddamn heat. How he’s sure it’s because of this beautiful Alpha he’s been hanging out with. So I’m, like, all happy for him, because he’s been having so much fun at college,” Chris pauses to chastise Maha for squirming while Chris does the shorter girl’s makeup, then continues the narration. 

“So, I’m happy for him, right? But then he doesn’t text me again for weeks. And I been texting and calling that fucker. He even stopped leaving me on read after a few weeks, just zero signs of life. The only reason I wasn’t calling a fuckin’ rescue mission on him is because we’re mutuals on Tumblr and he was still liking my shitty memes and style tutorials once in awhile.

“Then, last night, he texts me just one, like, all lowercase ‘hey’ at like, eleven. I was getting ready for bed and my phone was in a totally different room but as soon as I hear that text chime I like, run out the bathroom with my face mask still on, grab up my phone, and text him back like ‘where the fuck you been,’ right?

“We ended up texting for like three hours. After the first, like, half hour of catching up - and he’d been dropping a shit ton of hints, too - he spills the beans and tells me that he mated with that Alpha bitch and now he’s fucking pregnant.” Chris raises her voice above the gasps and protests from the rest of the Brats, and continues, “He hadn’t even told his Alpha yet, I had to convince him to. He thought he was ready to whelp a litter on his fuckin’ own! I was pissed. He still won’t tell me her name but he texted me before lunch today, saying he’d been talking to the Alpha bitch and told her what’s going on.”

“Oh my gosh, poor Sammy!” Maha says. Morty gulps.

“Do you have a-any idea who it could- who it is?” Morty asks, forcing himself to sound casual. He prays that Summer isn't the one who knocked Sam up.

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me,” Chris says. “He wouldn’t tell me how the Alpha responded when he told her, either. He begged me not to let our parents know that it’s even going on. I’ve been sitting on this since last night and I’m practically dying to tell the family.”

“You told your Omega family, boo,” Lizzie says.

“Yeah, we’re here for you,” Morty says, patting Chris’ shoulder. 

“Is he staying at college?” Lizzie asks.

“He’s hoping to, but if his Alpha won't help with cash, he's gonna have to drop out. He can't afford a kid and an education at the same time,” Chris sighs, watching her hands fiddle with a makeup brush in her lap.

“He’s such a good kid. So curious and eager to learn. I never would’ve thought he’d be in a spot like this,” Maha says, putting her hand out to rest on Chris’ knee.

Chris laughs cynically. “Yeah, same. I always figured it’d be me texting him at midnight, freaking out and asking where the hell to get an abortion.”

“Any of us, really,” Lizzie corrects. “He seemed smarter than us. Not in a bad or bitchy way, just…”

“An older brother way,” Asia offers. 

The room is silent for a moment, then Maha says, “Enough sadness! His babies will be adorable, and that’s all that matters. Chris, this makeup is not gonna do itself!” 

“Leave it to Maha…” Lizzie says over the din of chuckles from the Brats. Chris wiggles on the bed and lets out a long breath.

“Alright, zen again. Who’s ready for a wicked houseparty?” Chris says.

~~~

The party is, indeed, wicked. The Brats pull up in Lizzie’s infamous car, about an hour after the party was said to start. As they make their way up the walkway, Lizzie leads, and a male Alpha opens the front door for the group just as Lizzie steps onto the porch. Lizzie smiles and kisses his cheek.

“Thanks, Aiden,” she croons, practically shouting over the thrumming music. Aiden shrugs in response. The rest of the brats seem indifferent to the host, barely flashing him a smile as they pass over the threshold. Morty is the last in the line, and when he tries to walk inside, Aiden intercepts. 

Aiden looks Morty up and down, biting his lip and nodding. Morty glares at the Alpha, crossing his arms over his chest. “Um, the fuck are you- the fuck you think you’re doing?” Morty asks.

“Mm, just checking you out. You gonna suck my dick before tonight’s over, did you know that?” Aiden says. Morty rolls his eyes, laughing sarcastically. “Ooh, I bet you didn’t know, baby.” Aiden reaches for Morty’s chin, but a hand is suddenly on Aiden’s shoulder blade, and he has to go help some guy who’s already puking. 

Morty rushes inside, his palms damp with sweat from the interaction. He takes some deep breaths. He really hopes the scent of so many Alphas and so much alcohol will mask the scent of his fear.

He finds the Brats in the kitchen, already sipping at red solo cups. Morty tries to act calm, covering up his shaky hands by tapping his fingers on the cup that Asia passes to him. He tries to tap to the beat of the music.

Lizzie sidles up beside him. “What did Aiden have to say to you? I can’t believe he talked to you! He’s usually so… stoic. Every Omega here wants to get with him, and he chose you to talk to. You should honestly be honored.”

Morty doesn’t feel anything close to honored. He feels panicky. He feels a flashback coming on. He feels like he wants to be alone. He fidgets with his hair, and his fingers graze the hairclip. His stomach lifts momentarily, then plummets again. He takes a sip of bitter tasting beer, and answers Lizzie in a flirtatious tone. “He told me that I- I’m gonna blow him before the end of the night.”

Lizzie squeals, her eyes getting huge. “He did not!”

“He did! He l-literally did!” Morty laughs. Lizzie rushes over to Asia. Morty’s heart skips a beat as he realizes that if he sticks around much longer, the Brats will try to convince him to do what Aiden threatened him with. Morty turns and walks out of the kitchen, taking a long swig of his beer and joining the crowd of gyrating bodies.

He easily manages to find a decent looking Alpha to grind on him. Alphas keep bringing him drinks and smiling at him, and he smiles back. Within two cups of beer, he’s actually feeling okay with how the Alphas he dances with won’t stop touching his bare skin. He can’t remember ever feeling this happy. He wonders if this is why Rick gets drunk, so that he can be touched without hating it. 

Within three drinks, he’s okay with how his current dance partner keeps sneakily groping him through his shorts. He doesn’t always notice when she does it. When Chris finds him, the Alpha with the wandering hands (is it Jessica? Morty can’t tell) says she’s going to get Morty another drink. Morty dances with Chris for a few minutes, nodding and laughing when Chris says things he doesn’t understand in that adorable voice of hers. He doesn’t register that she’s been saying that Aiden is looking for him, and that she wants to make sure Morty is okay with what Aiden wants to do. Another Omega comes up and pulls Chris away to talk to her, and another Alpha comes up to grind on Morty. 

This Alpha’s voice is familiar, and several minutes pass before Morty realizes it’s Joshua who’s holding Morty tightly against his body and kissing Morty’s neck. Morty keeps drinking.

Morty’s halfway into his fourth drink when Aiden finds him getting dry humped by Joshua. Morty watches with blurry vision, laughing, while Aiden shoves Joshua in the chest, sending the thinner boy flying into the crowd. Several Alphas help Joshua up, keeping a tight hold on his upper arms to prevent him from coming back at Aiden. Joshua spits at Aiden’s feet, and Aiden throws a half-full beer can at him. Morty laughs harder. Joshua slips into the crowd.

Morty doesn’t register that the light shining in through the windows is now from streetlights, and not from the sun. Morty downs the rest of his drink and tosses the cup as Aiden grabs Morty’s free hand and leads him toward the stairs. Morty waves and smiles goofily at Maha, who takes a drink from her cup and gives Morty a thumbs up from across the living room. Morty doesn’t register the dozen jealous Omega glares aimed at his back as he stumbles up the stairs, lagging along behind Aiden.

Morty doesn’t register that he’s been led into what must’ve been Aiden’s bedroom, and he definitely doesn’t register the fact that Aiden locks the door behind them. Morty tries to casually sit on the bed, but he’s sort of swaying and his eyes won’t stop wandering to Aiden’s crotch. As Aiden crosses the room to sit next to Morty on the bed, Morty finds himself wondering if Aiden has blue pubic hair. As Aiden kisses him, Morty catches the scents of alcohol and vomit, and his eyes tear up but it’s great because the familiar smells cover up the foreign smell of Aiden’s pheromones. In his drunken state, Morty can imagine the scent of a much older Alpha’s pheromones under those familiar scents. Morty can imagine that it’s a different Alpha who’s taking Morty’s hand and groping their crotch with it.

Morty is busy thinking about the music that leaks through the floorboards and onto the second floor. He’s too busy to realize when Aiden stands up from the bed, holding Morty’s shoulder to keep the Omega from slipping off the bed in all his wobbling. He’s far too busy to notice when Aiden unzips his jeans and slips them down his thighs. He’s definitely too busy to care when Aiden pulls his already hard cock out of his boxers, strokes himself a few times, and says something in a low voice while tugging forcefully on Morty’s lower jaw. 

Morty registers it, though, when a precum-soaked tip is teased against his lower lip.

Only for a moment. He pulls back and makes an unintelligible protest, but Aiden grabs a handful of Morty’s hair.

Morty slips back into being much too busy with the music, and Aiden grips Morty’s jaw, and he holds tight to the back of Morty’s head, and Morty’s liquor-and-cum-scented lips are parting, and Morty’s mouth looks warm and inviting and deep.

Morty daydreams about blue hair. He’s too drunk to even remember why. But he knows that Aiden’s black pubes aren’t right. They should be blue. Why aren’t they blue?

Morty blinks, and it must have been a long blink, he figures, because when his eyes open again, there’s a green light from somewhere in the otherwise dark room, and Morty notices how it makes Aiden’s pubes look green, but then Aiden’s boxers and jeans are being hastily pulled up and voices are yelling above the volume of the music. Morty finds a nervous laugh leaving his mouth when he half-notices that Aiden has fallen down.

Morty feels himself being lifted and carried toward the green light. It’s too bright, and Morty shuts his eyes tightly, whining quietly. He’s held tighter.

~~~

Morty wakes up with an absolutely killer headache, on a hard, uncomfortable bed. He doesn’t even try to open his eyes against the bright florescent lights above him. He slings his arm across his eyes, groaning and trying not to move. 

“Good moooourghning,” a familiar voice says. Morty’s head pounds in response, and he whimpers in pain and shushes the old man. 

“Shuuuuuut the fuuuuuck uuuuup,” Morty whispers loudly. “Shhhhhh.”

“You know, I’m- I’m really sorry to have to- have to break this to you, kid,” Rick says, louder, to the protests of his grandson, “but you almost got yourself- almost got fuckin’ raped last night, because you- you didn’t even know your own d-damn limits.”

Morty is in too much pain to respond.

“I- I- I was in the middle of fucking a-a Scrotian, Morty, have you ever been with a Scrotian? No? They’re just, they’re fucking hideous, but goddamn, Morty, they give the best blowjobs a man could ever- I mean, it’s better than a Kalaxian crystal high, Morty, it’s fucking amazing,” Rick continues, to the background noise of what Morty can only describe as horrible racket. “I had to ditch that motherfucker at the motel, all because- all because my stupid grandson decides to get himself fucking raped, AGAIN, which is just gr- euuuurggh- great.

“Then I have to- I have to bring the dumbass to a different goddamn motel, because I obviously can’t bring him back to- bring him to the house, which means that I have to make yet another hangover cure from- with- with none of my usual tools,” Rick slams something down on the table and Morty’s muscles jump. It’s quiet for a moment, just Morty’s breathing. The scent of rut gets stronger in Morty’s nose.

Then, Rick’s voice, right by Morty’s ear, commanding Morty to do the opposite of what all of his muscles insist on doing: “Don’t move.”

Something pricks Morty’s upper arm. His muscle-memory reaction is to shove Rick away, grab the syringe, and try to pull the needle out of his flesh. He tries to reach out to do the first part, but several pairs of hands grab his arms and hold him down to the bed. His eyes shoot open, trying desperately to pull his arms and legs out of the grip of…

Of Ricks. 

Morty opens his mouth, but all that comes out is an unintelligible string of stuttering noises.

“Chill, Mooourghty, the shot is just for your hangover. Jesus, you’d think the kid would pick up o-on the monologuing,” one of the Ricks jokes, eliciting chuckles from the crowd. Morty’s head is clearing and his muscles don’t ache as much, his hangover quickly passing. His heart's still pounding and he’s still sweating buckets, although he’s pretty sure that’s more from the shock and not from the hangover anymore. His Rick moves away, out of Morty’s sight, and Morty’s heart beats faster, his breathing growing more and more ragged.

“Rick, why- why are there other Ricks here, what are you doing? Rick?” Morty says, panic in his rising voice. One of the Ricks grabs the waistline of Morty’s shorts, winking at the young boy and starting to yank Morty’s pants down his legs. “Stop! Unng, f-fuck!” Morty screams, trying in vain to kick at the Rick. The grips tighten on his skinny wrists and ankles, and his shorts and boxers are dragged all the way to his feet. Hands are moved so that Morty’s shorts can be pulled completely off his body. 

His hair is sticking to the sheet on the bed but Morty doesn’t notice. He opens his mouth to shout for help, but a Rick in full Federation uniform is standing by his head, saying, “C’mon, Morty, you think we wouldn’t’ve thought to put sound dampeners on the door?”

Morty turns his head and spits at him. With teary eyes, he looks frantically around for his Rick. His line of sight is being wrecked by the other Ricks around him. 

He realizes that his Rick probably isn’t even here. His Rick has left him. 

Again.

Morty shuts his eyes. Tears stream down his temples and into his hair. He can feel and hear his heart beating. He stops struggling.

“Just s-start already. Whoever is first. Just start,” Morty says flatly. His breathing evens. He’s sure he’s never cried so much. The tears won’t stop. His heart won’t stop pounding.

“Morty.”

“Just, d-do it. Please. Get it o-over with.”

“Morty. Open your eyes.”

“At least grant me the- the fucking dignity of picturing my own Rick,” Morty snaps. He laughs cynically, keeping his eyes shut tight. “Nevermind.”

A weight is placed on the bed, near Morty’s feet, and Morty finds himself wishing Aiden had been able to rape him. He could’ve been mated by now. He could be snuggling Aiden right now. He could’ve been anything and anywhere but here, about to get raped by five foreign Ricks.

Rough hands are touching the soft skin of Morty’s thighs. Parting Morty’s legs. Morty doesn’t struggle.

“Morty, goddammit, open yooooerghur fucking eyes.” The aggravated voice comes from a spot near Morty’s chest. 

Morty lets out a choked sob of a protest. He opens his streaming eyes.

“It’s me,” the Rick says, looking down into Morty’s eyes with something like kindness. 

“You’re m-my… My Rick?” Morty chokes out quietly.

Remorse etches itself along all the lines in Rick’s quickly darkening face. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Sorry, k-kid.”

Morty opens his mouth. Before he can say anything, though, Rick’s fingers are skillfully slipping inside of Morty’s ass. Rick’s fingers are moving, pumping in and out of Morty, and Morty is squirming and moaning and tears are still leaking from his eyes but not as much now. Now, the majority of the liquid coming out of his body is slick, and it’s wetting the bed sheets as Rick adds a third digit, curling his fingers inside Morty. The boy’s hands are gripping the sheets so hard that he’s sure his knuckles are white.

When Rick pulls his fingers out of Morty, Morty gasps like it’s the first breath he’s ever taken. He tries to grind his hips into open air, and the Ricks around him chuckle, but Morty doesn’t care. He’s been waiting, he’s been so patient, he’s never even given Rick shit for never noticing him, he’s never been too loud when he daydreams about Rick in the mornings.

He always figured that his patience would run dry eventually, but he never imagined that it would be when he was naked with Rick’s fingers making him gush slick.

Morty feels himself being moved, pulled so that his ass is at the edge of the bed. Two Ricks guide Morty’s legs up, his knees near his chest. Morty doesn’t have to open his eyes to know who’s positioning himself between his legs, but he opens them anyway.

The skinny old man is naked. Completely.

Morty’s seen Rick’s happy trail before, the blue little wisps that grew from his grandfather’s navel and down to the hem of his pants. Morty’s never seen the bush that concealed the first inch or so of the base of Rick’s cock, until just now. Morty’s seen the outline of Rick’s cock through the older man’s pants. He’s seen that several times, especially when Unity was around. Morty’s never seen Rick’s cock like this, leaking and hard and in Rick’s hand. 

The nails on Rick’s free hand dig into the underside of Morty’s thigh while Rick lines himself up with Morty’s entrance. Morty closes his eyes again.

“I promise, Morty, I- I’m trying to do the- to do what’s…” Rick mutters quietly by Morty’s ear. Morty whimpers with want and writhes helplessly on the bed, and Rick sighs sadly against his shoulder. Rick stands up straight again and teases the tip of his cock against Morty’s entrance, making Morty’s calves twitch. 

“Please…” Morty whispers, mostly without realizing it.

Rick ruts into him with little warning. 

Morty’s muscles jerk and jump and the boy has never experienced anything like the snapping rhythm of Rick’s hips and he’s vaguely aware of how tightly he’s being held down, he figures he must be squirming an awful lot, and he sort of half-considers being self-conscious in front of all of these people but honestly he’s just in too much ecstasy and he’s moaning too loud to really legitimately consider it.

Rick’s entire length slips in and out of Morty easily, aided by so much slick that Morty is desperate, so fucking desperate for more stimulation. His muscles are as tight as he can clench but it’s still not enough. Other Ricks have their hands in Morty’s hair or his chest or his calves, but their touch is just distracting. He wants his Rick. Morty wants the Rick who is making himself Morty’s Alpha.

“Please, f-fuck, Rick, I…” Morty cuts himself off with a loud and uncontrolled moan. “I need more, please…”

Rick’s thrusts falter, almost like Rick is startled. When he tries to resume, his rhythm is slightly off, making Morty all the more hungry for touch. He flexes his arms against the Ricks’ grips, trying with all his desperate might to reach for his own aching, throbbing cock. One Rick grabs Morty by the neck, choking the Omega.

“Pleaaase…” Morty is practically crying again, this time with so much want and need that his thighs are shaking and his breaths are coming in uneven gasps. “Please, Rick, p-please touch me…”

Rick doesn’t hesitate this time. He wraps his fingers around Morty’s cock and starts to stroke the younger boy. 

Morty actually does start crying again, at that. Tears roll and his breathing grows even more erratic as his hips move in a futile attempt to fuck Rick’s hand faster. A rough hand drifts down over Morty’s chest, and a cold thumb rubs over Morty’s nipple, eking out shivers and moans from the teen.

“Get off- get your hands off him,” Morty’s Rick growls loudly. Immediately, Morty is released. His arms and legs fly up and wrap around Rick, who leans over and into Morty, his lips and teeth grazing Morty’s throat. Morty can feel Rick’s cock twitching inside of him, he can feel his own orgasm building. He can smell all of Rick’s scents. The scent of all the guilt and the lust and the rut and the anger that’s been leading to this exact moment: when Rick claims Morty.

Morty climaxes first, but Rick is very close behind. Even Rick lets out a low and guttural moan as he thrusts hard and fast into Morty’s clenching hole, cum turning Morty’s slick from clear to white. Morty is gasping and shaking and moaning Rick’s name and six different Ricks are responding and then laughing.

As Morty comes down from his orgasm, exhaustion and sleepiness consume all his muscles and bones and when Rick pulls out of him, it’s all the boy can do to whimper. That whimper earns him a kiss on the chest, but then his Rick moves away and the five other Ricks very gently pick Morty up and move him onto a dry spot on the bed and cover him up with the sheets. Morty’s eyes are closed, but he can scent exactly where his Alpha is in the room, and from that spot there’s the sound of clothing being put on. All the Ricks move silently away from the bed and Morty’s heart sinks. 

“Rick?...” Morty says in a desolate whimper, his eyes too tired to make more tears. “You’re leaving a-again, aren’t you…”

“Fuck no,” says Morty’s Rick. “I’m just getting dressed so I have s-something to take off again while I- while the guys and I play strip poker. I’ll be here when you wake uuuerhgp.”

Morty’s muscles slowly relax until he’s yawning and his breathing is evening out. Right before he falls asleep, he hears a quiet exchange between two of the Ricks.

“Man, C-137. You were really getting into that shit.”

“Fuck off, Riiierughck. I’m clearly not the only Rick who- who’s, y’know, into his Morty.”

~~~

When Morty wakes up, Doofus Rick and Federation Rick are cleaning him up, putting towels under his back. 

“Hi, Morty,” Doofus Rick says. Morty sits up slowly, with help from Federation Rick. He winces and whimpers, pain radiating up his back. 

“Morty?” says a voice from the bathroom. Morty’s Rick comes out, zipping his fly and shooing the other two Ricks away. Each of them open a portal and step into it. 

When the green light has faded, the Alpha and the Omega are left alone in the dimly lit room. Rick sits on the edge of the bed, running his hand through Morty’s hairspray-sticky hair. 

“You need a shower,” Rick says, his voice gentler than Morty’s ever heard it.

Morty leans against Rick’s shoulder, the sheets still strewn across his lap. “Why did you mate me, Rick?”

Rick looks away, his eyes settling on his stimming hands in his lap. “Do you- do you know how fucking frustrating it is to watch all those Alphas just, you know, swarm all over you? They don't respect you, they don't listen to you, they don’t- they don't even fucking care about you. They assault you.”

“How d-did you know that I wanted to, um, y’know…” Morty blushes and hides his face in the crook of Rick’s neck, hugging his body closer to the older man’s back. Rick smells like oak and mint, under the usual scent of vodka.

Rick sighs. “I didn't, to be- to be quite honest with you, Morty. I figured the odds weren't too bad off, because I’ve caught the scent of your heat a few times when we were t-together and I was in rut. And you always wear the stuff I get you. I wasn't- I didn't know for sure, though.” Morty realizes why Rick brought backup. Why Rick seemed surprised when Morty had asked for more. Rick really had been surprised. 

“Those were really f-from you?” Morty asks, his chest warming. He figured they were from Rick, but the confirmation feels wonderful.

“Yeah, Morty. I was- was tryna protect you. You always show so much skin, I was trying to get you to cover more so that maybe Alphas wouldn't fuckin’ bother you so bad. Some of the accessories...” Rick slips his hand into his pocket and extracts the hair clip Morty had been wearing during the party. “They have, like, alert sensors in them. I’m trying to protect you, Morty,” Rick says, his voice quiet and tired and his shoulders sagging. “I'm just... tryna protect you.”

Morty wraps his arms around the frail old man. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put subplot setup in this chapter in case I decided to write more. Comment or give props if you would like more chapters and I will probably deliver :)
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @sin-aringiscaring for updates.
> 
> **The last scene is inspired by fanart by Actuallyrickmorty on Tumblr. Link below (nsfw) --->  
> http://actuallyrickmorty.tumblr.com/post/131842233179/1-morty-and-5-ricks


	2. All of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Jerry don't take the news well. Rick and Morty end up far from home, trying to figure out what they want.

They get home late the next evening. Morty’s heart pounds the entire ride home. His Alpha parents will be able to scent Rick’s bond. Rick and Morty both know that Beth is smart enough to start realizing what that means, and that Morty isn’t a good enough liar when it comes to big things. They both know that Morty’s parents will find out. 

Rick does his best to drunkenly reassure the Omega that they can reason with Beth and Jerry, that maybe they’ll even be alright with it. Well, alright is a strong word. But maybe they won't throw too many things. 

~~~

Morty stims his hands in his lap. They’ve been home for two hours. For the past two hours, tears have been brimming in his eyes and his throat has felt tight. He sits in a dining room chair and shakes like a leaf. He keeps his eyes on the ground. His parents keep screaming.

In the corner of Morty’s eye, Rick takes a drink from his flask every time Jerry or Beth says the word ‘disgusting’. Rick is nearly blackout drunk now. Morty’s fingers itch to reach out for that flask. He wishes he was numb like Rick.

By the time tears start falling from Morty’s eyes, his arm is being gripped like a vice by Rick’s shaking hand. He’s being dragged from the house, out into the garage. Rick is opening the passenger side door of the spaceship and ushering Morty inside. Rick is closing Morty’s door and going around to the driver’s side, slamming the ship in reverse while Morty blinds himself with his tears and fumbles with his seatbelt. 

Beth follows them into the garage, pointing her finger at Rick and screaming loud enough that her voice is clearly audible through the closed windows of the ship. Morty sobs harder and clutches at Rick’s sleeve, begging the old man to hurry, please, get us out of here.

Rick steers them far above the world, the ship wobbling and narrowly missing a passenger jet. Not that either of them notice. It’s dark. Rick’s too busy drinking, Morty’s too busy hyperventilating. Neither of them say it, but Beth and Jerry’s words are still ringing in their ears.

After a long time, Morty manages to slowly quiet himself down until his sobs are silent. Tears are still freely flowing down his face, and he keeps his face covered with his hands. 

He feels a tentative weight on his shoulder. He jumps and inhales sharply, his nerves still tight with fear. The weight disappears as quickly as it had appeared, and Morty’s shoulder aches to have the contact back. 

“Sorry,” Rick says. His voice is low and flat. 

Morty can hardly look at his grandfather. He wants nothing more than the comfort of Rick’s scent, Rick’s hands, Rick’s warmth. The comfort of an Alpha that might not even be his Alpha anymore, an Alpha who smells too much like vodka and shame to even identify his scent. Maybe, to Rick, their twenty-four hours in the shitty little alien motel room mean nothing compared to being held in contempt for the rest of his life. Maybe Rick has already changed his mind about claiming Morty. 

Morty unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls his knees up to his chin, leaning against the door with his head against the window. He swipes at his tears with the rough collar of his t-shirt. Rick had rubbed the ache from Morty’s back before dressing Morty in this t-shirt. His rough hands had touched Morty in ways that conveyed more love than Morty thought they were capable of.

Morty’s throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, but he’s too empty to care. He’s sure that if Death showed up right then and there and held out his arms to Morty, Morty would walk into them willingly.

Sleep finds Morty faster than Death.

~~~

When Morty wakes up, it’s in a king bed with silk sheets. Slowly, groggily, he sits up, finding himself still fully dressed except his shoes. The room is much nicer than the bug-infested and run-down places Morty is used to waking up in. In the dark, he can make out white double doors that take up most of the wall facing the foot of the bed, and luxurious red velvet curtains hanging on a large window. Abstract paintings and blue china vases decorate the room.

Morty rubs his temples and sighs heavily as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He briefly wonders if Rick is around, but the thought of his grandfather is too painful to sustain. Morty swallows thickly, trying and failing to get rid of the lump in his throat and the churning in his stomach.

Walking to the bathroom proves to be more difficult than expected. Morty’s entire body hurts. He wishes for an aching back again. At least that was a remnant of a good time.

Morty turns on the light, finding that the bathroom is just as nice and nearly as big as the bedroom. Marble and pearly white colors, a huge standing shower and freestanding claw-footed bathtub. Morty turns the sink faucet on with a shaking hand. He ignores the cup on the counter and drinks from his cupped hands. He usually tries to make sure that it’s actually water coming out of the taps when he wakes up in strange places, but he doesn’t care this time. It tastes like water, and if alien water is how Morty dies, so be it.

When his stomach is cold and making sloshing noises, Morty splashes some water on his puffy eyes and shuts off the water. He runs his wet hands through his hair. He finds a hair tie in his shorts pocket and wrestles his bedhead into a ponytail that doesn’t look too terrible. 

Morty’s stomach growls. He puts his hand on his belly, closing his eyes for a moment. He tries to find his zen, like Maha would tell him.

He wants to go home. Not to his house, but to his home. He wants to go back to the Brats, back to unrequited lusting for Rick. His chest heaves and he slumps down onto the floor with his back against the bathroom counter.

He cries again, silent and tearless. His ponytail makes it uncomfortable to lean his head back against the ornately carved cabinet door, so he lets his hair down again. He’s sure he’s never been in so much pain. He’s sure he’s never wished so hard that he was dead. He’s sure Rick doesn’t want him anymore. 

It was fucking stupid of Morty to even think that Rick would want him in the first place. Why the fuck would he? There’s an entire multiverse out there, and Rick could have anyone he damn well pleases.

Morty slams the back of his head against the cabinets. The pain distracts him for such a wonderful moment that he does it again, harder. His vision goes spotty and he forgets about rick for half a second. It feels so good. He does it again. And again. And harder, and harder, and louder and louder until he-

“Morty?!” 

The bedroom light clicks on. Morty freezes. His eyes stream tears. He stands quickly and slams the bathroom door shut, locking himself in. His heart pounds. So much for being alone in here.

“Morty, w-what the fuck are yoooeorghou doing?” 

Rick’s speech is slurred. Morty inhales the heavy scent of vodka and Rick’s shame. Morty covers his face with his hands, silencing a harder sob. His chest hurts. “Just- just go a-away,” Morty says. “Leave me to rot.”

Rick’s staggering footsteps lead up to the bathroom door. A moment passes. The only noise is Morty’s ragged breathing, and the muffled clink of Rick’s teeth against his flask. Then Rick shuffles away again. 

Morty sinks back down to the floor. He hears a door open and close in the distance. “Please come back,” Morty whispers into his hands. He knows that no one hears him. 

He knows that Rick has left him to rot. 

~~~

Morty eventually stumbles back into the bedroom and manages to curl up in the bed. With his arm, he shields his eyes from the bright ceiling light. He wishes for death and he wishes for his life back. He doesn’t move. He’s pretty sure it’s been over an hour since Rick left, but there’s no real way to tell. 

His stomach growls. He doesn’t notice.

After a long time, Morty hears a door open. He doesn’t move. He hears footsteps getting closer. He doesn’t move. 

“Morty?” Rick’s voice is soft and sober. 

Morty doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move.

The footsteps come into the bedroom. “Eat,” Rick says flatly, tossing a bag of McDonald’s down on the bed by Morty’s hand. 

Morty’s mouth waters at the scent of hotcakes, but the acrid scent of shame and anger still pervades the room. Morty doesn’t move. Rick leaves the room, turning off the light and closing the door quietly behind himself. Morty slowly moves his arm from his eyes, staring unfocused at a spot on the white wall. He can hear the old man puttering around in the hotel room’s living area. He can smell Rick. He can’t stop smelling Rick. He can’t stop smelling how fucking ashamed Rick is of him. It smells like rotting meat and formaldehyde. Like dissecting a frog in eighth grade science class.

Morty’s mouth waters more, but this time it’s because he’s gagging. Morty crawls out of bed, his hand clasped tight over his mouth. He barely makes it to the bathroom before he throws up.

He hasn’t eaten since the school lunch before Aiden’s houseparty. The only thing that comes up is bile and water. After a few moments, the only thing left in his stomach is a sick feeling. 

Morty flushes the toilet. He brushes his teeth with a toothbrush and toothpaste he finds in one of the bathroom drawers. He knows Rick heard him retching by the way the old man’s scent gets stronger. The smell of Rick’s disgust is stronger than Jerry and Beth’s combined.

Morty follows the horrible scent out into the living room. He finds Rick sitting on a large couch, using a screwdriver on a small electronic device. Rick doesn’t look up at Morty. 

“Drink the potion o-on- the thing on the table.”

Morty’s heart sinks lower, which he didn’t really think was possible. That was so fast. How did Rick make this so quickly? Morty blinks. Maybe he’d already had it made.

Slowly, Morty takes a seat in one of the chairs around the dining table and picks up the glass of dark liquid. There’s only a tiny bit in the bottom of the glass. His hand shakes and it sloshes. Hell, his whole body is shaking. He feels like he’s going to puke again.

He doesn’t have to ask what the potion is, he know exactly what it is, but he asks anyway. 

He wants to hear Rick say it, he wants to hear the old man say that he regrets it. Morty wants to hear Rick say that becoming Morty’s Alpha was his worst mistake.

“What is it?” Morty asks. His voice is even, although his lips are trembling.

Rick clears his throat, his eyes still fixated on the device in his hands. “It’s- it’ll make it so you aren’t bonded to me anymore. Shouldn’t taste all that- shouldn’t be too bad. I tried to make it grape flavored but I don’t know how well that- how well it worked.”

Morty stares down into the cup. He blinks, and something drips into it audibly. His head jerks back in surprise. He touches his hand to his face to find tears on his cheeks. It feels like his ribs are crushing his lungs and a stone is stretching out his throat. 

“Why would you even mate me in the f-first place? All you do is fucking- is abandon me. I knew- I knew it would end u-up like this,” Morty says. His voice is a strained whisper. “Geez, what a fucking daydream it was, huh? The idea- the fucking delusion that Rick Sanchez would have s-some damn hope of-of a good life.”

Rick looks up. “Morty?”

Morty exhales heavily in a heartbroken attempt at a laugh. He lifts the glass up to his lips and mutters against the rim, “Never- never fucking mind.”

“Morty, wait,” Rick stands and crosses the room in two long strides, his hand closing over Morty’s on the cup. Morty doesn’t struggle against Rick’s grasp as the Alpha kneels and pulls the cup away from the Omega’s lips. 

Morty meets the old man’s gaze and says nothing. He is so tired. He just feels tired. Rick sets the cup on the table and Morty lets go of it. Rick gently grips Morty’s upper arm and turns the younger boy to face him.

Rick looks into Morty’s eyes. Morty stares at the Alpha, his eyes wander along the tired lines of Rick’s frustration. “I- I- I’m confused, kid,” Rick says. “I thought this was- this would be what you wanted.”

Morty stays silent. His mouth is dry again. He would rather never talk again.

Rick tentatively reaches for Morty’s face. The old man’s weathered hand cups Morty’s cheek, the pad of his thumb wipes at Morty’s tears. Morty exhales softly and closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into Rick’s hand as more tears stream down his face. 

Rick runs his hand through Morty’s hair. Morty lowers his head and cries. The contact is too much. He could’ve done it, he could’ve drank it. He would’ve. But he can’t, now. He can’t. Rick’s hand is cold and calloused and perfect.

“Rick, p-please…” Morty whispers. “Please don’t leave me.”

Rick tugs Morty’s hair gently. In an even tone, Rick commands, “Look a-at me.”

Morty takes an uneven breath and shakes his head, his eyes still fixated on the ground. “You’re s-so ashamed of me, Rick, I can- I can smell it.”

Rick pulls Morty’s hair harder, angling Morty’s head back so Morty will look at him. Morty bites his lip and swallows hard against the pain. 

“I’m not fuckin’ ashamed of you, kid,” Rick stares into Morty’s eyes and enunciates every word.

Morty blinks and his lips part to start to respond, but before he can say anything, Rick’s hand is tightening in Morty’s hair and their mouths are colliding.

It's the first time they've really kissed. There were kisses the day before in the motel room, sure; there’d been cheek kisses and chest kisses and hand kisses. But Rick hadn’t kissed him on the lips.

Morty’s toes curl, his fingers find Rick’s lapel and hold tight. He feels Rick’s breath hitch against his left cheek and he can taste his own salty tears. Rick eases off after a moment.

“R- Rick…” Morty says against Rick’s lips. Rick moves his hand from Morty's hair to Morty's back, rubbing light circles into Morty’s tense muscles.

“I- I’ve got you, babe,” Rick says quietly. Morty tucks his head into the crook of his Alpha’s neck. “I'm not- God, I’m not ashamed of you, s-stop- quit crying.”

Morty looks up at his Alpha, wiping roughly at his cheeks. “You smell like sh-shame, Rick.”

“That- that tends to happen when people d-do fucked up things, Morty.” Rick stands, pulling out his flask and rubbing his face with his other hand. He takes a drink and then sighs, staring at the cup on the table. “Okay, s-so, we’re staying toooerghgether-”

“Yes, we are,” Morty interjects, feeling a little bit of his courage returning. 

Rick rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I kinda, y’know, I kinda picked up on that vibe when you didn’t drink th-the damn thing,” he grumbles. Rick picks up the glass. Morty swallows thickly. 

“Rick, j-just get rid of it,” Morty says, leaning his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. His head hurts. He feels slightly less sick now, and he can still smell the McDonald’s in the other room. His stomach growls.

Rick hesitates. “This is, y’know, it’s your one and only out, Morty, you’re not gonna- you’re not getting a-another one,” Rick says. “It’s an Alpha’s job to protect the- protect his Omega, but it-it’s an Omega’s job to trust his Alpha. From here on out, there- there’s no ditching you, and there’s no ditching me.”

“I- I never wanted to ditch you,” Morty says, his voice rising in anger. “Don’t you dare think- don’t say th-that I wanted to leave you!”

Rick scoffs. “It’s only- it’s been one day and you’re already s-so upset you- you’re puking and shaking a-and going catatonic, kid.” Rick sets the potion back down on the table. Morty glares at it. “Y’know, it might not be too bad right a-at this- it might not be too bad right now, but you’re gonna- your whole life, you’re g-gonna be the kid who f-fucked his grandpa. At s-some point, you’re gonna regret it. You’re gonna wish you had a- a way out, and you- you’re gonna have to trust me. You’re gonna- gonna have to trust me e-every time I tell you to stop bitching.”

Morty scowls hard at the glass on the table and doesn’t say anything. He can feel Rick’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at the older man. Morty watches as Rick slides the glass closer to Morty’s hand on the table. 

The Alpha holds his flask tightly as he speaks in a flat voice. “Here’s your one chance, Morty. You can avoid- you can just avoid all the pain. Tell th-them I raped you, I doooegrhn’t care. What- whatever they’ll believe, Morty. Tell them I- I drugged you a-and they’ll believe every fuckin’ word. I’ll go away, you’ll never s-see me aga-”

Morty cuts him off by grabbing the cup, shoving his chair away from the table, and stomping toward the kitchenette sink. Rick grabs Morty’s wrist tightly, and Morty spins on his heel to face his Alpha.

“That’s not a choice, Rick, th-that’s a- a fucking nightmare!” Morty looks up into his grandfather’s eyes, setting his jaw. “I’m pouring i-it out. Enough of this fucking bullshit! I just- I don’t want it. I trust you, alright?!”

In a matter of maybe half a second, Rick grabs the potion out of Morty’s hand and slams it back down onto the table. Rick shoves Morty back against the table, easily and roughly lifting the Omega with his hands on Morty’s ass. 

“Rick-” Morty’s gasps, cut off by Rick’s hand wrapping tightly around his neck until Morty can hardly breathe. Rick’s other hand stays low on the small of Morty’s back, pulling the Omega to the edge of the table and standing between his parted legs. Morty isn’t distracted enough to miss the feeling of Rick grinding ever-so-lightly against his crotch, but he’s definitely too distracted to get turned on by it. 

Morty’s hands wrap around Rick’s wrist. Before he can start trying to pull Rick’s hand off his throat, though, Rick snarls by his ear, “Let go.”

Morty blinks back tears from the odd, crushing pain Rick is inflicting. He swallows, with difficulty, and slowly lets go of Rick’s arm. He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing through his nose. His heart pounds. 

Rick takes a hard nip at Morty’s earlobe, making the Omega take a sharp, raspy inhale. “You’re gonna s-see what it fucking means t-to trust me,” Rick growls, his grip tightening on Morty’s throat. Morty just keeps focusing on his breathing, but each breath is shallower than the last. He clutches Rick’s shirt in both hands, his knuckles white and his heartbeat in each of his fingertips. Rick’s low, threatening voice stays right by Morty’s ear. “I s-swear to you, Morty, I- I- I’ll make you drink every last fucking drop of that potion if you fight me.”

Morty’s lungs have started burning, and his lashes are wet with tears. His breathing consists of erratic gasps and the backs of his eyelids seem to be coated in tiny bright white lights. His feet and fingers are tingling and his heart pounds even harder. Morty fears for his life. He is afraid, not for the first time, that he’s about to die by Rick’s hand.

Morty doesn’t move. He lets himself wheeze. He clings to Rick’s shirt. He accepts his fate.

“Nice.”

Just like that, Rick’s hand is gone. Morty coughs wildly, gasping for air. He lets go of Rick’s shirt to grope at his own neck, his vision going pure white as his chest heaves. He feels himself being picked up and placed on his feet. Fearing falling over, he reaches out desperately for Rick, but Rick is already holding onto Morty’s forearms and keeping the Omega steady. 

“I- I got you,” Rick says. Morty tries to lean over and plant his hands on his thighs for support, but Rick adjust his grip and keeps Morty upright. “No, no, babe, it- it’s way easier to get your breath back i-if you’re standing up, trust me.”

As Morty regains his sight, he flips Rick off. Rick just laughs and takes a drink from his flask. The Omega starts breathing regularly again, aside from coughing fits, and Rick guides him to the sofa to sit down. Morty stays on the couch and watches as Rick pours the potion down the sink. 

Rick makes his way back over to the couch, sitting down next to Morty. He puts his arms around Morty’s shoulders and draws the younger boy closer. Morty willingly leans into his Alpha’s side, swallowing thickly and trying in vain to suppress his dry coughing. “You- you know you’re kind o-of an asshole, right?” Morty chokes out. A coughing fit wracks his body but he can still hear the rumble of laughter in Rick’s chest.

Rick runs his fingers through Morty’s tangled hair, taking a drink with his other hand. “I know what I- I’m about,” Rick says, chuckling. “I’m possessive of m-my Omegas. You- you didn’t exactly seem to mind last night.” He pockets his flask and his free hand moves toward Morty’s neck slowly, and Morty swallows again and watches Rick’s hand with wary eyes. “It’s o-okay,” Rick says quietly as his fingertips very lightly graze Morty’s neck. “I’m gonna- I’ll go slow, okay? Tell me to stop if you, uh, if you get uncomfortable.”

Morty’s eyes flick up to Rick’s. Rick moves his hand down from Morty’s neck and looks down into Morty’s eyes. 

“You don’t have t-to prove anything to me, Morty.” Rick’s voice is steady and serious. His hand rests, totally still, on Morty’s collarbone. 

“Then what th-the hell was that about?” Morty coughs, gesturing widely toward the dining table without picking his head up off of Rick’s chest.

“That was you proving yourself for the last time you’ll e-ever have to,” Rick says. His hand feels heavy on Morty’s collar, but… a good heavy. It makes Morty feel protected, like a tiny kitten getting scruffed. “You just showed me that you t-trust a lion to step on your skinny neck. The rest of your life is- it’s th-the lion’s turn to show you that under his paw is the s-safest place to be.” Rick runs his fingers through Morty’s hair again. “Y-yoooerghou get it?”

Morty nods.

“Good,” Rick says, his hand moving back up to Morty’s throat. His cold fingertips trail along Morty’s adam's apple, and Morty shivers and shifts closer to Rick, his chin tipping lower toward his chest.

“You- your hand is freezing, a-and… you still stink like hell,” Morty says. His stomach growls. “And I- I’m fuckin’ hungry, Rick.”

“Go get the food I brooerhgught you like an hour ago,” Rick says, his hand leaving Morty’s chest to grope around his lab coat pocket. Morty looks up at his Alpha incredulously as Rick unscrews the cap on his flask yet again.

“I’m n-not eating cold fast food!” Morty says, folding his arms across his chest. “Go get me- go get something.”

Rick groans, stands up, and grabs his keys. “I- I’ll be back in twenty minutes. You better be i-in the tub when I get back,” he says, already on his way out the door. “You stink l-like hell.”

“Rick, w-wait,” Morty says, standing up from the couch. Rick pokes his head back in the door, his brow raised. “What planet a-are we on?”

“Look out a- a damn window, Morty,” Rick says as he shuts the door behind himself.

Morty cocks his head in confusion. He turns around and pulls the curtains open on the window behind the couch. He looks out on the city of New York, from about thirty stories up. 

Morty gasps, which brings on another coughing fit. Morty grumbles and glares out the window as the coughing eases. “So much for e-excitement,” Morty says, touching his neck lightly. 

He realizes he’ll have dark bruises and the thought makes him blush. He stares at the floor and tries not to smile. What kind of a pervert is he if he gets off on the thought of having bruises from Rick’s fingers?

“The claimed Omegan kind,” Morty whispers to himself. He climbs onto the couch, kneeling on the cushions and leaning forward against the back of the couch to look out across the skyline. The sun had just been setting when they’d got home to Beth and Jerry’s. Now, Morty waves hello to the sun as it peeks above the horizon. “Good m-morning, sun,” Morty says, smiling. “Did you hear? I’ve been- I’m a claimed Omega now.”

Morty watches the sun rise over Long Island for a few minutes. He watches cars on the roads, already congested. 

Once, Morty had compared cities like New York to faces. Looking down from Rick’s spaceship he saw so much character in the peaks and valleys made by the city’s buildings. “It’s l-like somebody’s- like wrinkles in a face,” Morty had gushed, his forehead pressed to the passenger window as they flew low over Los Angeles. “The works in progress a-and the fuckups, too, stuff like old parking towers. They’re like pimples, o-or, uh, birth marks.”

Rick had snorted and taken a drink from his flask. “Y-yeah, Morty, that’s just- that’s great. That makes backed up roads like a- like a sinus i-infection.”

Morty had shrugged it off as a grumpy old man’s rambling at the time, sulked in his seat for the rest of the ride and kept any other excited thoughts to himself. Now, looking out over New York as the sun exposes all the things that’d been hidden, Morty understands what Rick meant. Cities are happier at night. You find the 24-hour stores and diners and meet the most interesting people at night. The city is relaxing. Its guard is down, its bra is off, its sweatpants are on. It easily and willingly spills its sorrows and its joys. During the day, the city puts on a different face, with pounds of makeup and Gucci bags and although it’s beautiful, the news presses are turning on and pumping out fake news. It takes centuries wandering around downtown to find someone worth talking to, takes eons to find an honest story. It drinks NyQuil by the gallon to keep its sickness from interfering with others’ lives.

Morty slinks down off the couch. He wanders into the bedroom, drags his fingers along the silky sheets absent-mindedly as he passes by the bed. His head hurts more since Rick’s little chokefest, but Morty doesn’t exactly mind. He trusts his lion, and he admits to himself that he’s high off the thrill of the whole affair.

He starts the water in the bath and strips off his oversized t-shirt and Maha’s two-day-old shorts. He stares at his body in the mirror, watches the way his ribs slowly become more and more prominent as he inhales, and then less and less prominent as he exhales. He turns the bathroom light off and closes the bathroom door until only a sliver of light comes through, and he watches the way his body moves in the dim light. He’s so much sexier in dim light. It hides what little body hair he has. He wonders, with a small grin, how many other Omegas are being treated to warm baths and yummy food by their Alphas in a luxurious hotel room at eight in the morning. 

The entire mentality behind this thought is exactly why Morty doesn’t give a fuck. 

Morty’s stomach twists to think about his parents. His hands shake and his heart beats faster. But, right now, admiring the red, splotchy beginnings of bruises on his neck in the giant bathroom mirror?

Morty doesn’t give a single fuck.

~~~

Morty wakes up with a jolt. His eyes snap open just in time to watch a few drops of water splash onto Rick’s labcoat as the bathwater sloshes. Morty blanches and sits up in the bath. 

“Shit-” Morty starts. Rick grumbles and tosses the Omega a towel, which Morty grabs just before it hits the water.

“It’s- it’s fine, Morty,” Rick says. “Clear out, kid, I- I’m gonna grab a shower.” 

Morty waits a moment without moving, expecting Rick to leave, but the Alpha just leans back against the counter, his eyes still trained on Morty. Rick raises his brow expectedly, and Morty’s stomach flutters.

“Oh,” Morty says, more of a soft exhale than an actual word. He looks at Rick as he stands up in the tub. The eye contact doesn’t last long, though, because Rick is openly checking him out as Morty squeezes out his hair, steps out of the bath, and starts to dry off.

Morty hides his grin in the towel, drying his face and then his hair first. He takes his time with his upper half. He can smell the strong minty scent of rut under the aging scents of their emotions from earlier. He can see the way Rick’s cock bulges under his pants as his eyes travel up Morty’s wet legs.

When Morty finally finishes his show for Rick- or drying off, whichever works- he wraps the towel around his body, high enough to cover his chest. Reluctantly, he reaches for the pile of his clothes on the bathroom floor. 

“No,” Rick says. Morty looks up at his Alpha. “They stink. I’ll have the- the hotel wash them. Stay i-in the towel.”

Morty purrs, happy to oblige. He starts to walk out of the bathroom, but as he passes by Rick, the Alpha grabs his arm and stops him. Rick pulls the mostly naked Omega closer and takes Morty’s chin in his other hand. Morty’s chest warms as Rick angles Morty’s head back, exposing his neck. 

“You’re already getting some- getting bruises,” Rick growls quietly. Morty blushes, staring up at Rick’s face as the older man examines his own work. A grin creeps across Rick’s face and he looks into Morty’s eyes before adding, “They look good on you.”

Morty swallows the fifty thousand butterflies in his throat and somehow manages not to completely disintegrate under his Alpha’s intense gaze. 

“I th-think so too,” Morty says, his voice low and sultry. He’s been practicing that voice for so long, but he never really expected to be able to use it on the Alpha for whom he’d been practicing. It feels good, the visible way that Rick reacts to the Omega’s words, his grasp tightening on Morty’s arm and his gaze lowering to Morty’s lips. Morty bites his lower lip gently, watching Rick’s jaw tighten as he does.

“Careful th-there, babe,” Rick warns.

Morty shivers and inhales sharply at that comment, and the sick scents of Rick’s negative emotions combined with how sore Morty’s throat still is proves to be enough to launch the younger boy into another coughing fit. Rick chuckles as the fit eases, moving away from Morty and starting to strip off his clothes. 

“Go eat, I- I’ll be out in a few,” Rick says, starting the shower. The mirror is already fogging when Morty reluctantly leaves the bathroom. Rick closes the door and Morty hears the click of the lock. 

Morty grumbles to himself, but meanders back out into the living room. In the absence of breasts, the towel slips easily, and Morty holds it in place with his free hand while he roots through the grocery bag on the table. Morty blinks and one side of his mouth curls up.

A tub of cream cheese.

Two pears.

And two bagels.

Rick is planning on eating breakfast with him.

Morty takes the stickers off the pears and rinses them under cold water. He tries to suppress his growling stomach as he slices the bagels in half and starts to spread cream cheese on one. His hands are still shaking and his mouth waters incessantly at the scent and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to shove the entire thing into his mouth at once.

He forces himself to take only small bites at first, but he's done with his bagel before Rick is even turning off the shower. He's halfway through his pear when Rick saunters out of the hotel bedroom with a towel hanging low off his hips and takes a seat in the chair across from Morty.

His eyes are trained on Morty. Or, more specifically, Morty’s hand on his half-eaten pear. Morty gestures with his free hand at the food he’d laid out for Rick but before he can say a word, Rick has grabbed Morty’s hand.

“I- I’m not hungry,” Rick mutters, running a fingertip down Morty’s palm like a palmreader. Morty swallows hard, thankful that his throat isn’t hurting so much anymore, and puts the remainder of his pear down on the table. The table is big and he has to lean in a bit to let Rick hold onto his wrist. “I saw how- I saw you checking me out w-while I walked out here.” 

Morty’s wrist is turning white under Rick’s grasp, and he shivers and sighs softly at the pain, his other hand reaching down to hold onto the seat of his chair, bracing himself. The scent of Rick’s rut seems to envelop him, his skin feels warm. Rick looks up, staring into Morty’s eyes as he grips the Omega even tighter. Morty bites his lip and whimpers, his fingers twitching and his body heating up. “Rick-”

Rick is tugging at Morty’s arm demandingly. “I c-can smell you, now, Morty,” he says quietly, still staring into Morty’s eyes.

Morty slowly stands and walks around the table. Rick squeezes his wrist as he gets closer and Morty bites back a pained whine, shivers traveling down his spine and making his dick twitch. Without taking his eyes off Morty, Rick shifts slightly in his towel and lays Morty’s hand on his bare thigh, letting go of his wrist to cover Morty’s hand with his own. Morty has to lean over slightly to keep the contact, and he puts his other hand on Rick’s bare chest, his breath catching at the feeling of Rick’s cool skin under his hot hands. 

Rick pulls Morty in closer, his mouth under Morty’s ear. “You smell s-so fucking good,” he says lowly, his fingers slipping up his Omega’s towel and his fingernails digging into the line where the back of Morty’s thigh turns into his ass. “You smell like heat and sweat and y-your skin smells like cherry Jolly Ranchers if Jolly Ranchers w-were sluts.” 

Morty’s chest burns and he shuts his eyes, his jaw tight. Rick drags his fingernails down Morty’s thigh so roughly that Morty has to shift his weight onto his other leg. As Morty’s lips part in a tiny moan, Rick shivers and nips hard at the hollow under the Omega’s ear. 

“I never w-woulda pegged you for a-a masochist,” Rick says. 

Morty exhales softly against Rick’s throat, his toes curled against the hardwood floor as his Alpha’s fingers move up higher, trailing lightly over his ass cheek and toward his asshole. Morty can tell that he’s beyond wet as Rick touches his entrance. The touch sends a shudder up his spine and it’s all he can do to shut his eyes, bite his lower lip painfully hard, and give an uncontrolled little roll of his hips. 

That’s more than too much for his Alpha. 

Rick grips Morty’s hips tightly as he stands up, his mouth on Morty’s as he hastily walks the Omega backwards to the nearest wall, Morty’s towel getting lost somewhere in the process. Rick’s thigh presses tight to Morty’s bare groin and the only thing Morty can do is grind against his Alpha with all the desperation of an Omega in heat. 

“Rick…” Morty whines loudly, his cock already throbbing against Rick’s leg. “Rick, I’m in heat-”

Rick trails cool, wet kisses on Morty’s blazing hot skin, along his throat and shoulder. “I n-noticed,” Rick says, rocking his hips hard into Morty’s and making the small boy shudder and moan. Rick yanks his towel out from between their bodies, sighing hard against Morty’s collarbone as his skin collides with Morty’s. 

“Go put on a condom, Rick, I-” Morty cuts himself off with a wanton moan.

The Alpha presses his hands to the wall on either side of Morty’s body. “No,” Rick growls as he slots his mouth against Morty’s and demandingly presses his tongue past his Omega’s lips. He rocks his hips into the younger boy again, and the tiny amount of willpower that Morty had completely disappears, leaving him desperately pawing at his Alpha’s chest and shoulders. Morty lifts one leg and wraps it around Rick, and Rick understands. 

Rick lifts him easily for the second time that day. Morty sighs with want and digs his fingernails into Rick’s shoulder, consumed by the feeling of submission washing over him. There’s nowhere for him to go, even if he wanted to. Morty’s back is pressed flat against the wall and Rick is holding his naked body up with wonderfully strong hands on his ass.

Morty’s skin is blossoming red with heat and slick is running down his thighs as he wraps his legs around Rick’s hips, feeling the head of Rick’s cock teased against his entrance. 

Rick grunts as he starts pressing into his squirming Omega, their chests flush and their breath mingling between rushed and desperate kisses. “Morty, k-kid, relax,” Rick says against Morty’s lips. Morty shakes his head, his eyes shut tight. He can feel how tight he is, but he can’t unclench his muscles. His heart is pounding with excitement and fear and his body is shaking among the shudders. Against Rick’s shoulder, he starts to hyperventilate. 

“N-no, no, no, f-fuck,” Morty says between gasps. Rick pulls back and Morty meets his gaze, his heat blush turning embarrassed. A shadow of worry works its way across Rick’s face as he realizes what’s happening. “It- it’s not you-” Morty starts, the flashback intensifying.

“Yes, i-it is me,” Rick cuts him off, kissing Morty’s jaw and moving one hand to Morty’s stomach, keeping Morty’s back to the wall. “It’s your Alpha, it’s just me. You’re here, with me, and y-you’re into this. You’re h-holding onto me a-and I know you’re into this. Take a deep breath, babe, you- you’re alright.” Rick’s voice is steady and sure. “I’ve got you.”

Morty feels tears pricking at his eyes. It feels like his lungs will only inflate a quarter of the way. Morty’s chest is hot and heaving but Rick’s hand is cool and steady on his stomach, Rick’s lips are cool and steady on Morty’s cheekbone. Morty’s muscles tighten even more as Rick presses deeper into the Omega. He whimpers and digs his nails harder into his grandfather’s shoulder, equal parts terrified and aroused.

“Deeeeeeep breath,” Rick says, looking into Morty’s eyes and demonstrating. He inhales deeply, holding his breath for a moment to let Morty try to follow suit. Morty does try- and he succeeds for a fraction of a second. He exhales with Rick, meeting Rick’s gaze, then tries to inhale again. “I’ve got you,” Rick says gently, and it’s true. Rick’s not moving and his hands are so steady on Morty, they feel so much like Rick’s hands because they are Rick’s hands, and Morty takes another breath. “That’s s-so good, babe, that’s perfect. I’m here with you.” 

At the praise, Morty pulls tighter against the older man. The Omega takes deep, labored breaths and nuzzles into Rick’s shoulder. Rick picks up on the response. He runs his cold hand up Morty’s side, cooing into Morty’s ear.

“You’re so good f-for your Alpha, Morty, you’re doing so fucking w-well,” Rick tells him. “You’re perfect and beautiful a-and you’re so wet and hot for me, and you…” Rick trails off as Morty starts to roll his hips into the older man. “You belong to me,” Rick murmurs instinctively as he kisses Morty’s neck, right on a bruise, and it’s Morty’s complete undoing. 

Morty grips Rick’s hair hard and whines, and Rick finally starts to move. “I- I belong to you,” Morty pants into the crook of Rick’s neck. His muscles still refuse to relax, but he’s stopped shaking as Rick thrusts slowly into him. “I’m yours, Rick, I-” Morty cuts himself off, biting back a moan as Rick moves so deeply into him.

“Fuck, Morty, s-say my name again,” Rick says, his lips on Morty’s skin as he thrusts faster and harder. Each movement is punctuated by a wet noise that emanates from between their bodies and arouses them both. Morty drags his nails down Rick’s back and evokes shudders.

“Rick,” Morty moans loudly as Rick sinks his teeth into Morty’s neck. The pain shivers through him and the small of his back slams into the wall with every thrust. His cock bounces against Rick’s stomach and he moves his hand down to start stroking himself, but Rick grabs his wrist and pins it to the wall. 

“Ask first,” Rick says. “Ask for- for- ask me if you can touch yourself.”

Morty whines, his eyes shut and his breaths coming in uneven gasps. He can’t let go of Rick’s other shoulder without totally throwing them off balance, and Rick’s grip is strong on Morty’s arm. Morty squirms hopelessly. “Please, oh, geez, R-Rick, please can I touch myself?”

“No,” Rick growls. He bites Morty’s shoulder and fucks the Omega harder. Morty’s whining gets increasingly louder until he’s nearly screaming and Rick has to let go of Morty’s hand to cover the Omega’s mouth and muffle him. Morty’s entire body shakes with so much pain and pleasure that he thinks he might come without even being touched. It feels like nothing less than a miracle when Rick starts to spill into Morty, his moans perforated with a breathless, “Touch y-yourself.”

Morty comes onto Rick’s stomach within two strokes. His thighs twitch weakly and the ecstasy reaches all the way to his fingertips and toes, rendering him nearly immobile and temporarily blind. Rick keeps the Omega pinned for a moment, both of them panting hard as they come down from their orgasms. Slowly, his joints creaking, Rick pulls out and sets Morty down. He puts one hand on the wall by Morty’s head, leaning his weight there as he catches his breath. 

Morty leans over and plants his hands on his knees. His heart pounds. Heat radiates through him and sweat is beading on his skin. His muscles twitch under his skin. Translucent white slick runs down his legs.

“Hooooooly shit,” Rick says between heavy breaths. 

Morty tucks his damp hair behind his ear and looks up at his Alpha, a flattered smile on his face. “Yeah?” 

Rick chuckles and looks at the young boy in something like disbelief. “Yeah. Are you alright?” Rick asks, his brow raised in concern as he runs a hand through his still-wet hair, sweeping it away from his face. Morty nods, his heartbeat starting to calm down. He picks up Rick’s towel from the floor and starts to clean himself off, but Rick shakes his head and covers Morty’s hand with his own. “Let me,” he says, tugging gently at the towel. Morty smiles and leans his head back against the wall, letting go of the towel. Rick quickly and roughly cleans off his own stomach before kneeling in front of Morty. 

The Omega parts his legs willingly, and he closes his eyes and sighs happily as Rick starts to very gently wipe at the insides of Morty’s thighs. For a few minutes, the only sound is the AC coming on and the occasional sharp inhale as Rick brushes against a sensitive spot. 

“You’ve n-never been this sweet,” Morty says quietly as Rick finishes and stands up. Rick chuckles.

“You’ve never let your- never let me fuck you until y-you scream.”

Morty tips his head. “Fair enough.” He looks down at the towel covered in slick and semen. He frowns and stims his hands. “I- I feel bad, I was really loud a-and-”

Rick is already tossing the ruined towel on the floor. “Don’t- q-quit worrying so much, Morty. I know the Alpha who r-runs this place. As long a-as I swing by and, uh, knot her once in a while, she lets me have as many rooms as I need. I booked a-all the rooms adjacent to this one, y’know, just in case you did turn out to be a screamer,” Rick says. He gestures at Morty’s feet. “Can you walk?”

Morty nods. “Yeah, I- I think.” 

It only takes one step to realize how terrible an idea that was. An arc of pain shoots up his back and he bites his lip hard and reaches out to Rick. Rick rolls his eyes, taking hold of Morty’s arm and bending to pick him up under his knees. “You’re such a- a newb.”

Morty folds his arms and grumbles as Rick carries him toward the bedroom. His back aches even more than the first time. “I th-think the word you’re, y’know, you’re looking for is virgin.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Rick sets him down in bed. He tosses the old McDonald’s bag off the bed and nudges Morty. “Scoot over.”

Morty complies, making room for the old man to ease into bed behind him. He sighs and shuts his eyes, practically purring as he sprawls out on his back under the AC vent. Rick chuckles into his pillow, tugging the sheet up around himself and turning onto his stomach. Morty huffs indignantly, soaking up every second of the cold air blasting his skin. 

“Don’t you- don’t laugh at m-me! This is th-the first heat I’ve had that I didn’t have to break by- by fuckin’ suffocating myself,” Morty says.

He hears the rustle of Rick’s hair against his pillow as the Alpha turns to look at him, but Morty keeps his eyes closed. His hair is dry from the heat radiating off his skin and every breath smells like Rick’s oaky pheromones, which isn’t helping him cool off. “You smell amazing, y’know, I- I caught whiffs of it all the time.”

“Does- do I really smell like cherry Jolly Ranchers?”

Rick grins. “Oh, yeah.”

“Good to- to know.”

“Drove me fuckin’ crazy, Morty.”

“Huh?” Morty’s looks over at Rick. The old man’s face is creased and he stares into Morty’s eyes with all the intensity of an actual lion.

“My last couple ruts, y’know, I haven’t e-even been able to get off unless I suck on Jolly Ranchers. You- you fucked up my sex life, kid. Jesus, Morty, getting you pinned down by- by all those Ricks? The room smelled like a- a damn candy factory. I’ve never been more turned on in my life.” Rick grins as he adds, “And that- that’s fucking s-saying something.”

Morty’s never been more flattered in his life. He suddenly doesn’t care about his sore ass and back. “Well, then,” he says, smiling. Rick buries his face in his pillow again. 

“Wake me up w-when you want another round, kid,” Rick mumbles. Morty shuts his eyes and keeps enjoying the AC. By the time it shuts off a few minutes later, Rick’s quiet snoring is the only sound in the room. Morty dreams of being in the ship, way above the world, and staring out at the stars while Rick names each of them. He has no nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed the second chapter of this lovely fic that I've decided to continue! We'll see if I can settle into a regular upload schedule :)  
> Follow me on Tumblr @sin-aringiscaring for updates and teasers.


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